For The Both of Us
by pastries and turtlenecks
Summary: It was the one day of the year Christopher Thomas was guaranteed to have a Hell dream.


Christopher Thomas awoke with a start, chest heaving, skin glistening with sweat. Slowly, slowly, his hands unclenched the sheets he'd balled up in his sleep, and he struggled to relax his fingers. It must be that time of year again. The one day a year he has a hell dream without fail. After the first two, he was hoping, _praying_ it was a coincidence, but the third time just confirmed it.

He glanced over at his mission companion, Elder McKinley. He thought back to the times where it would be the other man waking in the middle of the night, tears stinging his eyes, unable and unwilling to fall back asleep. He would look tired and troubled when his companion finally rose, only to assure him he was fine, just get dressed and come to breakfast already.

But ever since Elder McKinley found comfort in Elder Price, he'd stopped waking up in the middle of the night. Their bedroom was peaceful from 10:30 pm until 6:30 am every night for months. It wasn't until that morning that Chris knew what Elder McKinley must have felt like. To wake up from your own personal hell while your companion slept peacefully at your side.

He glanced down at the digital alarm clock as his heart rate returned to normal, to see that it was 5:46 am. He sighed and ran a hand through his short blonde hair; no use trying to get back to sleep now. Elder McKinley was somewhat lax with rules, he wouldn't mind if his companion got up and started breakfast.

He quietly got dressed, as to not disturb the sleeping man only a few feet away from him in the tiny room. He headed to the bathroom and glanced at himself in the mirror, noting the lilac bags under his eyes and the red tint left behind by his tears. He splashed a bit of water on his face and tried to smooth his hair down with another handful, but it still awkwardly stuck out in the back and looked awfully messy. By the time anyone else got up it would probably have flattened, anyway.

Of course, he wasn't expecting to find Elder James Church sitting at the dingy kitchen table, a small plate of strawberry poptarts set out on it, staring intently at the pastry in his hand with a toothpick in the other. James glanced up with a start when he heard Chris enter the room, looking tired and disheveled. He smiled and set the poptart down. "Good morning," he said as cheerfully as possible.

Chris did his best to hold back a yawn and sat down across from James. "Morning," he mumbled, taking a poptart from the plate when James nudged it toward him. "You couldn't sleep either?"

James shrugged, picked up his poptart again, and continued fiddling with it and the toothpick. "Davis caught a cold, and when he's sick, he snores. Nothing big."

Chris nibbled at the pastry while he listened, and set it back down on the plate, barely a corner missing. He just stared at the colorful treats for a bit, eyes distant, before snapping back to attention. "Oh, yeah, I heard him sneezing a bit before bed. Poor guy."

"Yeah," James agreed, staring intently at Chris, the latter unaware of the dark eyes searching his own. There was a solemn silence shared between the two before James spoke up again. "You must miss her a lot, huh?"

Chris's eyes darted up to meet James's, suddenly paying much more attention. "What?" he said, feeling his face flush. They held the tense gaze for a moment before Chris looked down once more. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said dully, face forlorn.

James sighed, reaching across the table to rest his hand on Chris's forearm. "You don't have to be strong for the both of us all the time, you know." When the smaller man said nothing, James's hand retreated to its side of the table, and began to fiddle with the toothpick once more. It scratched at the icing side of the poptart for a few moments more, and James slid the finished product across the table.

Chris glanced at the pastry, and in the dim lighting, could barely make out what James had done to it. He slowly reached out and lifted it into the sunbeam coming in from the cracked window. A few thin lines were scratched into the pale pink frosting, and when he squinted, he made out sloppy handwriting. '_I am here for you'._

He glanced back up, eyes shining, to see James smiling encouragingly, his hand outstretched. Chris happily took it in his, feeling a comforting squeeze, before finally letting a few tears for his sister slowly slip down his pale cheeks.


End file.
